


Dysphoria

by Dreaming_of_Fairys



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dissociation, Friends to Lovers, Gender Identity, Heavy Angst, M/M, Menstruation, Nudity, Sex Change, Trans Character, Trans!Sting Eucliffe, Transgender, Transphobia, sting x rogue, stingue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6779713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_of_Fairys/pseuds/Dreaming_of_Fairys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sting Eucliffe had a secret. A secret that he kept safely for years, until the natural cycle of life hit him and made his struggles far more difficult. He hated himself, hated what he'd been born as, hated that he had to hide out of fear. But as time goes on, things become slightly more bearable with Rogue by his side, always willing to whisper the three words he needed to hear: "You're a boy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dysphoria

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty self explanatory, I needed some trans!Sting in my life so I wrote it xD Enjoy <3

Rogue hated it when people called Sting feminine.

When he’d first met Sting at age 9, sure, his voice was a little odd and he tended to act strange about certain things, but he was a good friend and Rogue would glare at anyone who teased his friend for being “too girly”. Sting hated it when people called him that, always screaming back at them with tears in his beautiful blue eyes.

It wasn’t until they were 15 that Rogue truly understood why.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!” Sting screams from the bathroom. A loud clanging sound of the trashcan hitting the wall causes Rogue to nearly fall off the couch. “NO WHY FUCK!”

Rogue knocks on the door, concern in his chest. “Hey, are you-” His voice cracks awkwardly and he groans slightly before continuing, “are you okay, Sting?”

He heard loud, gross sobbing on the other side of the door, but Sting refused to tell him why. “I-It's nothing important.”

“Obviously it is if you're freaking out this badly,” Rogue folds his arms across his chest, waiting for a better answer.

“I stubbed my toe...really bad,” Sting replies slowly. “It's not that big of a deal, it didn't break the skin. I just...kicked the trashcan.”

If Rogue didn't know Sting as well as he did, he would've believed that in a second. But Sting is a Dragon Slayer, there's no way he’d scream and cry as if his life is ending over a simple stubbed toe. But Sting didn't seem in the mood for opening up, so Rogue let it slide.

But that evening when they lie in bed together the way they'd done since they were kids, Rogue senses multiple things different about Sting he’d never noticed before.

Sting loves cuddling and is almost always snuggled up against Rogue’s back, running his fingers through Rogue’s hair and humming softly until he falls asleep. On this particular night, their position is exactly the same, and yet, there's slight distance between their bodies that had never been there before. That, and the sudden scent of thick blood terrified Rogue out of his mind.  He instantly rolls over and switching on the lamp, ignoring the half-asleep protests from Sting. “Sting, what really happened today? Are you hurt? Because I smell blood...fresh blood.” 

In response, Sting bursts into tears. Rogue pulls his head into his own lap, petting Sting’s head. “What happened, Sting?”

Sting sniffs slowly, blue eyes opening to look up at Rogue. “It's not  _ what _ happened,” Sting whispers. “It's what always has been. The truth about me I’ve been running away from ever since I left Weisslogia. I’m...not who I seem, and yet, what I  _ physically _ am is not who I should be. It's a complicated thought, especially since I thought of it so young...but it happened, and I've been this way ever since.” He laughs shakily. “But adolescence is harsh, Rogue. It takes the ease of transforming yourself into who you should be and makes it three times harder.”

Rogue blinks, voice soft. “I don't understand…”

Sting laughs again, more bitter this time. “Of course you don't. You were born a boy, grown up as a boy, and you're maturing a boy. Everything is just how it should be for you. Never once has it seemed odd to you, it's just the way it is.” Slowly understanding is beginning to creep onto Rogue’s face as Sting continues. “It's never been that way for me.”

Rogue’s eyes fill with sympathy. “So...you’re…?”

“I’m still a boy,” Sting says firmly. “I always have been. But my body disagrees with me. Apparently I was meant to grow breasts that I now have to find some way to hide from the world and today I just got my period! How the hell am I going to deal with this, Rogue?! I’m  _ not _ a girl! I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!”

“Shhhh,” Rogue has a tear in his eye as he brushes through Sting’s tangled blond hair with his fingers. “I’m so sorry, Sting...I wish I could help you...if only I had a way to give you the body you belong in...but I can’t.”

“It's so unfair,” Sting chokes, “and if Jiemma knew, he's so fucking transphobic he’d kill me on the spot!”

“I won't let that happen,” Rogue says firmly. “Look, Sting. I am going to help you out with this in every damn way possible. I will go buy you menstrual products and make up whatever excuses I need to. I will sneak you painkillers if you have cramps, and I won’t freak out if you overreact in any way to something. You're a boy, so I’m going to make you feel like one again.”

Sting’s eyes shine with fresh tears. “You really-?” Rogue nods resolutely. “Please don't tell anyone.”

“Not a soul,” Rogue agrees with a warm, caring smile. “Now, let’s get back to sleep.”

Sting whines quietly. “I...can I come on your other side…? This position is uncomfortable for...uh...my chest.”

“C’mere,” Rogue pats the spot in front of him, then moves over when Sting switches sides. He curls up into Rogue’s arms, pressed against Rogue’s chest, falling asleep fairly quickly with a small smile on his face.

* * *

“Sting, what the hell is this?!” 16-year-old Rogue storms into the kitchen, holding up a roll of Ace bandages for Sting to see.

Sting lifts his head up from where he’d been pouring himself a glass of lemonade and nearly spills the entire bottle. “Uhm, just bandages.”

Rogue’s eyes narrow. “Right...a half used roll of bandages. And neither of us have had any major injuries lately that needed this.”

“Your point?” Sting asks as he moves to the fridge to put the lemonade away. He picks up his cup and sips it, leaning back against the counter.

“My point is,” Rogue snarls, marching up towards Sting and poking him right in the center of his chest, on his crop top, “it's gotta be under here!” 

Sting flinches at the touch in obvious pain. “Y-Yeah, and-?”

“Take off your shirt and vest,” Rogue replies without much context.

Sting splutters in embarrassment. “Wh-Why?”

“Trust me,” Rogue’s voice is still clipped, although there is kindness there.

Sting gulps and strips down on the top. His chest is fully visible now, including the tightly wrapped bandages around his breasts.

“Look at this,” Rogue breathes, sounding extremely upset. He runs his finger along where the bandages dig into Sting’s skin. “It's red here, there's bruises that I know aren't from Jiemma, and your circulation is getting cut off.” Rogue looks Sting dead into the eyes. “You could ruin your ribs or spine or something of that variety very easily, Sting. You need to stop binding like this.”

“And let it show?” Sting snaps. “Rogue, if I ever wore a bra, I’d be a size D, okay?! And that's very fucking visible! I’m not going to let that be visible, not at the risk of getting hurt plus the fact that I hate the damn things!”

“No!” Rogue snaps. “I’ll never make you go out without hiding them, but I’m also not letting this continue! Sting, you're  _ hurting yourself _ !”

“I DON’T CARE!” Sting screams. “OBVIOUSLY MY LIFE WASN’T MEANT TO BE EASY ANYWAYS!”

Hot tears stream down Sting’s face as Rogue pulls him into his arms and gently holds him close. “Sting...you need to listen to me. Your life is going to get better soon...I promise you that.” Rogue wipes away Sting’s tears, whispering out, “I’m going to buy you a binder...I can't bear to see you destroying yourself like this…”

Overwhelmed and out of words to say, Sting buries his face into Rogue’s shirt, gasping and sobbing uncontrollably. Rogue rocks him back and forth in his arms, running his fingers through Sting’s hair, murmuring words of encouragement to him until he fell asleep.

* * *

 

As the days went on, Sting began having more and more trouble believing Rogue’s words of encouragement. It seemed to him that everything in his life is in a constant downwards spiral of negativity, shoving him deeper into self-hatred.

He lies shirtless on the bed, dressed in only a pair of navy blue sweatpants. His eyes are staring blankly up at the ceiling, completely unfocused. His chest heaves slightly every now and then, minor cramps twisting below his stomach. He can feel the blood, but he ignores it, letting it stain and flow.

Rogue appears in the doorway, heating pad in his hand, figuring his best friend would need it. He approaches the bed, eyes filled with concern and sympathy. “Hey, Sting,” he says softly, “do you want this?” He holds the heating pad in front of Sting’s eyes.

Sting doesn’t respond. Rogue waves his hand again right in front of Sting’s face, but the transboy’s expression remains blank. Rogue can see the signs: he is disassociating...again. Over the past few weeks, Sting had been falling deeper and deeper into depression. His period had hit hard yesterday in a wave of hormones, leading up to a mental breakdown of catastrophic proportions in the guild bathroom. Rogue had brought him home almost immediately, not wanting the abusive asshole Jiemma to see.

Sting hadn’t spoken a word since.

“Sting, please, snap out of it…” Rogue whispers, placing a hand onto Sting’s bare shoulder. “This is your hormones talking..you’re alright, you’re going to be just fine...shhhh...I’ve got you…”

Sting doesn’t show any indication of hearing his best friend, the only movement besides breathing being his eyelids opening and closing in a blink every few moments. Rogue sighs deeply, heart heavy and on the verge of breaking down. But he had to remain strong for Sting...his struggle is far greater than anything Rogue had ever endured.

* * *

 

Sting presses the measuring tape tight around his breasts, groaning in anger and frustration. “I can’t fucking believe this,” he hisses, hot tears brimming in his eyes as he furiously throws the tool to the floor. “Grew another two inches in a fucking month…” A light, familiar knock on the bathroom door catches Sting’s attention, causing him to sigh from in front of the small mirror. “What is it, Rogue?”

The door opens a crack, Rogue glancing in with an unreadable expression. Sting is unsure of what could be bothering Rogue: it certainly isn’t Sting’s missing shirt, as the transboy frequently walked around the house like this, not wanting to deal with the painful confinements of the Ace bandage. “Sting...can I...talk to you for a second?”

Sting looks down at his chest one final time with a knot of hatred curling in his abdomen. His eyes close as his hands trace over his own stomach, then up to the underside of his breasts, wishing with all of his heart that his hands could continue upwards without a single thing to stop them. “Yeah…” his voice is soft and full of self-hatred, and Rogue’s face floods with emotion.

They move into the living room and sit down together on the couch, Sting pressing his knees up to his chest, hiding himself out of shame and pure loathing of his very self.

Rogue slowly passes Sting something with a small emotional smile on his face. Sting blinks slowly, taking the object from Rogue’s hands. “Is this…?” he whispers, eyes wide in shock.

“Yes, Sting…” Rogue’s eyes shine with unshed tears, seeing how genuinely shocked his friend was. “It’s a binder.” He holds on of Sting’s hands in both of his own as he continues speaking. “You said a few months ago you were cup size D, I really hope it fits alright because I just went with the clerk’s judgement…”

“I...how much did this cost you?” Sting breathes in amazement and astonishment. He pulls his other hand free and turns the binder over and over in his hands. His eyes are wide at how well-made it was, nothing like the bandages he has been using for a good year and a half.

“Nevermind that,” Rogue gently brushes a bit of hair from Sting’s eyes. “Try it on.”

With trembling fingers Sting puts on the binder, pressing the lumps of skin he so fiercely hated back against his chest. He takes the shirt Rogue hands him and slides it over his head. He hears Rogue make a small noise, and he looks over and sees a single tear sliding down Rogue’s cheek.

“Y-You won’t be in p-pain anymore…” Rogue whispers. “You look great, too...j-just like a boy…”

Sting touches his now-flat chest, smiling for the first time in an extremely long time. “Rogue, I...I don’t know how to truly say thank you…”

“Smile,” Rogue whispers as another tear slides down his cheeks. “If you’re even a bit happier than you were before, Sting...that’s all I need.”

Sting falls forward, head landing on Rogue’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Rogue holds him tight, just like the many times in the past, and they cry together with hopeful hearts at last.

* * *

 

“That’s what weaklings deserve!” Jiemma roars, towering over Sting’s limp form on the floor. He turns around, starting to stalk off. He throws over his shoulder an angry bark of an order. “Everyone leave him there, he’s got to get up himself and prove his strength as a member of the strongest damn guild in all of Fiore!”

Everyone slowly moves out of the room except Rogue, who sees the way Sting is clenched up into a ball and understands exactly what happened. He rushes towards and lifts Sting into his arms, cradling him close to his chest, feeling Sting grip tight onto the fabric of Rogue’s shirt with one hand. Rogue carries Sting to the bathroom and locks them into a stall together, shaking from head to toe.

Sting knows what Rogue is concerned about, slowly removing his vest and crop top. Rogue helps remove the binder, fearful of what he’d see underneath. He gasps quietly, fingers ghosting over the dark black and blue bruise on Sting’s side, not directly on his breast, but close enough to be extremely painful. Jiemma’s kick would have bruise anyways, but the binder hitting against Sting’s skin made it three times worse.

“How bad is it?” Sting asks shakily, unable to see the bruise himself.

Rogue swallows. “Pretty bad…” He looks up into Sting’s blue eyes, deep sadness all over his face. “We’ll have to treat it when we get home.”

Sting’s expression is unreadable. “I’m done. I’m so done. I don’t want to live in this body anymore! This isn’t me!”

Rogue slowly and gently clips the binder back on, voice soft. “Someday, Sting, you won’t have to anymore.”

Sting’s eyes flash with emotion. He tears the binder off of himself and throws it against the wall, listening to the sound it makes as it hits hard then falls to the tile. “Get this stupid thing off of me!” he screams, kicking the door of the stall, then collapsing to the ground. He screams into his hands, then buries his face in-between his knees, unable to cry, but feeling ready to break in half. All he felt was pure, unrivaled anger, like nothing he’d ever felt before. He was  _ so fucking angry _ he was ready to punch someone, preferably Jiemma, but-

Before Sting could control himself, his fist is lashing out and striking Rogue square in the jaw. Rogue reels back from the impact, holding his smarting cheek, gasping in pain and shock. Sting freezes up, fist still floating in midair, eyes widening in horror. Not believing what he’d just done, he falls onto his stomach on the floor, bare breasts touching the dirty tile as he sobs endlessly without any restraint.

He was a mistake. A fuck up. A blemish in this beautiful world. Maybe he did deserve to die, to not exist, to simply...vanish. He’d hurt the only person who cared, after all… “I should just...die…” Sting whispers against the floor, expecting Rogue to agree with him.

But there is no anger or hate in Rogue’s eyes: only pure, unbridled emotion. He reaches down and gently strokes Sting’s hair, lip trembling. Very softly he lifts his voice into song, a lullaby Skiadrum sang to him quite a few times. “You are my sunshine...my only sunshine…”

His voice cracks. “Y-You make me happy...when skies are gray…” He swallows hard, fresh tears covering his cheeks. Sting lifts his head off of the tile slightly, confusion and pain etched on his features.

Rogue is practically sobbing as he pulls Sting close to him, clutching onto him for dear life as he rocks him back and forth in his arms. “Y-You’ll n-never know...d-dear...h-how much I l-love you...p-please d-don’t take...m-my sunshine...a-away…”

Sting is empty and confused as Rogue cries harder than Sting had ever seen him cry in his entire life, hands winding in Sting’s hair and cradling his frail body close to him for dear life. At this moment, nothing mattered to him but Sting. Who gave a shit if someone walked in and questioned this? He would stand his ground, he would protect the beautiful boy in his arms, no matter what the cost. Even if it meant Rogue had to sacrifice his own life...he would do it.

Rogue had held him a thousand times, keeping Sting close and warm and safe in his arms. But how long would that last…? All Rogue could do...was hope.

* * *

 

“He hates me.” Sting sits on the bed of his and Rogue’s room at the hotel in Crocus, wearing only a white tank top and his slightly-dented binder.

“No, he doesn’t,” Rogue reassures him from across the room, sliding off his boots and leg armor. “Natsu Dragneel’s guild...is very accepting.”

“And yet, we have to act like total assholes because otherwise Jiemma would hurt us,” Sting hisses, wincing as his binder slightly digs into his skin. Not only was it bent from that one terrible outburst all those days ago, he’d grown a few more inches outwards, causing extreme discomfort. But money is something both of the Dragon Slayers lack, so buying a new binder wouldn’t be possible.

Rogue instantly is sitting on the bed beside him, hand snaking up Sting’s shirt to adjust the binder, as Sting is leaned back against the headboard due to extreme back pain. “There you are,” he says softly, the action not awkward to either of them in the slightest. “And yes...Jiemma’s reign is...toxic. I’m pretty sure over the years we’ve established that.” Rogue shakes his head, leaning back against the headboard as well. “No, I don’t think Natsu Dragneel will hate you once he sees the true you, Sting.”

“But...what  _ is _ the true me?” Sting whispers. “This piece of shit?” He gestures to his body, laughing humorlessly. “I sure fucking hope not.”

Rogue shakes his head. “Absolutely not…” They tilt their heads, looking at each other in the eyes. One of Rogue’s hands rests on Sting’s chest, right where his heart is. “This, right here, is the true you.” Rogue’s eyes shine with care. “Your real self is just waiting to be unlocked, Sting… Someday, we’ll get you out of this mess and where you belong… I promise you…”

Sting looks down at Rogue’s hand in astonishment. A silent tear rolls down his cheeks as he chokes out, “R-Rogue, I…” He shakes his head, looking away. “N-Nevermind.”

Rogue blinks, a gentle hand moving underneath his chin to turn his head back. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Sting whispers, refusing to meet Rogue’s gaze. “Let’s just...go to sleep.”

Rogue’s heart aches, wondering what Sting is keeping from him as he nods and swallows dryly. They lie down together, Sting having to sleep with the binder on in case of emergency, so Rogue makes sure to hold him extra gentle to keep him comfortable. Rogue knew that this would cause damage to Sting’s already screwed up body, due to the fact that binders were only supposed to be worn for about 8 hours. A week of constant wear besides showers...the very thought terrified Rogue. But there was nothing they could do...transphobic Jiemma would kill Sting on the spot if the truth was discovered, and Rogue was not going to let that happen.

* * *

 

“GONE, HE’S GONE, HE’S GONE, ROGUE, HE’S GONE!” Sting is screaming, having a full-scale mental breakdown right in the middle of their hotel room. Since Jiemma has been nowhere to be found since Sting shot a hole right through him, Rogue practically tore the binder off of Sting the moment they were back to their hotel room.

Currently Sting is only in his boxers, on his knees on the floor, Rogue a few feet away, as Sting had been a bit violent earlier and had actually requested that Rogue move away so that he didn’t accidently hurt him.

The door to their room was open, but every time Rogue tried to move Sting screams again, so Rogue didn’t move an inch. “Yes, Sting, Jiemma’s gone…” he whispers soothingly. “Don’t worry…”

“NO!” Sting shrieks. “LECTOR’S  _ GONE _ _!_ Y-YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT FUCKING JIEMMA?!”

“I never said that,” Rogue tries to keep his voice level and calm. “I’m sorry I...for some reason thought you were talking about Jiemma…” His voice shakes slightly. “I mean, Lector is alive…”

“I kn-know,” Sting sobs. “B-But I still failed him…”

At that Rogue moves forward, placing a comforting hand on Sting’s shoulder. “Look at me, Sting.” Sting slowly lifts his head and looks at Rogue in the eyes. “Lector knew you’ve been having trouble with your binder and such lately...he knew that you wouldn’t be able to take much more abuse...he stood up for you and he helped you. You didn’t fail him. He made his own choice.”

Sting shakes his head. “F-Failure…” he chokes.

Rogue leans closer, eyes filling with tears. “No, Sting, you’re-”

A sharp gasp from the doorway alarms them both. Rogue whirls around to spot Rufus Lore, standing there with a shocked expression and wide eyes. Rogue opens his mouth to speak, tell him to leave them be, when Sting explodes.

“DON’T TELL ANYONE-”

Before he can even finish his sentence Rogue slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shhh, shhh, you’re being very loud…” He lifts his head to look at Rufus, eyes actually shining with tears now. “Please, Rufus...pretend you saw nothing. Don’t tell anyone…”

He looks at them for a moment before it finally settles in. “I won’t tell a soul,” he says softly. “Don’t worry...this has not been memorized.” He tips his hat to them both. “I’m sorry for all of this that’s happened to you, Sting.” With that, he turns on his heel, pressing his hat back onto his head as he walks away.

Sting blinks in shock. “That...was easy.”

Rogue smiles warmly through tears. “See…?” he whispers, brushing away some of Sting’s tears. “People won’t mind, Sting… Most people in the world aren’t like Jiemma.”

Sting breathes in a shuddering breath. “R-Rogue…” he whispers. “C-Can you...c-close the door now..? I..I want to sleep.”

Rogue nods and moves to close the door, making sure it was locked tight. He scoops Sting up into his arms and places him down onto the bed, running his fingers through Sting’s hair. To his surprise, Sting strips out of his boxers, lying there completely naked underneath the covers. “Don’t wanna deal anymore,” he mumbles into the pillow. “Just once...nothing hiding anything.”

Rogue nods, and finds himself pulling off his shirt as well, leaving himself in his sweatpants. He holds Sting close to him, letting him listen to Rogue’s heartbeat, a steady drum of life reminding him why he needed to stay strong.

Rogue finds himself humming the lullaby again, but this time, to his shock, Sting sings along, “...you make me happy...when skies are gray…”

Rogue joins in, and the two of them sing together, slightly out of tune and a bit under tempo, but together. “You never know, dear...how much I love you…”

It didn’t matter to them. For the first time in about seven years, Sting and Rogue were free of Jiemma’s iron grasp. All they had to do was make it out of these games alive..and they would be free.

“Please don’t take...my sunshine away…”

* * *

 

Things had really changed for Sting since the Grand Magic Games.

He’d become Guild Master, which was interesting. As well as the fact that, well, he was  _ openly transgender. _ He never,  _ ever _ thought in a million years that would happen.

Although he had to admit, there would always be pain. Right now, things were a little rough for the Twin Dragons. Rogue keeps beating himself up over the potential future in store for him, and Sting is constantly an anxious mess.

Once again, Sting finds himself collapsed against his desk, too-small, broken binder digging into his skin. He couldn’t believe that he’d gone up almost a cup size since Rogue bought it for him, and it was starting to become suffocating. But Sting didn’t want to mention it, didn’t want to bring trouble to Rogue’s already furiously piled anxieties. But something else had been on his mind...something that had been rather prominent during the Grand Magic Games, but Sting had chose to ignore it.

He rises from his desk and exits the office, finding all of the lights in the hall but a single candle put out. Rogue is reading a book by candlelight, despite Sting’s past reassurances he can leave the lights on. Rogue stands up, smiling tiredly at him. “Ready to go?”

“It’s almost 2am, I’m exhausted,” Sting yawns. “So yeah. Let’s go home.”

They walk home hand in hand, fingers loosely intertwined. Sting’s heart pounds in his chest as Rogue hums softly under his breath, a tune Sting’s never heard before, but it’s certainly beautiful. He admires Rogue’s features in the moonlight, his eyes, his smile, his lashes, his chin and cheekbones...and suddenly his own heart sinks.

Rogue was a guy.

Sting was not.

It was something Sting had been stressing over a lot lately. Ever since Rogue had let a hint slip about something, it had been tormenting Sting day in, day out. Rogue would never, ever overlook Sting’s breasts or genitals, he would be a man stuck in a woman’s body forever.

The moment they get home Rogue is steering Sting to the couch. His eyes lock on Sting’s face, careful and calculating. “What is it?”

“What is what?” Sting replies, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

Rogue shakes his head slowly. “Don’t do that.” His voice is shaking. “Stop hiding things from me… I’ve always been able to do  _ something _ in the past...please, trust me to be with you in some way this time as well…”

Tears streak hot down Sting’s cheeks, and suddenly those pent-up feelings of many months all spill out. “Y-You said the other day, wh-when talking to Rufus, that y-you’d never felt any attraction to women, a-and the p-problem is…” He chokes on his own tears. “R-Rogue I’ve f-fallen in love with you, b-but you won’t love m-me, you c-can’t love me…”

Rogue shakes his head, tears of his own dripping down onto the couch surface. He’s trembling as he cups Sting’s cheeks in his hands. “You’re not a woman.”

“B-But-”

Without a second thought, Rogue slams his lips against Sting’s kissing him with every once of love he had for this wonderful man, pouring every bit of pain and suffering he’d endured to try to make Sting happy into this one, fleeting moment. The second he pulls away, silently crying twice as hard, he whispers, “You’re a man. And you’re not just any man, Sting…” His thumb wipes away another tear. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. You’re strong, brave, loyal, and you have such a big, caring heart… And your eyes...your eyes are like the ocean. Deep and meaningful...yet filled with so much life underneath the rough sea waves.”

Sting can’t stop sobbing, for the seemingly millionth time in his life breaking down underneath Rogue’s touch. They kiss again, this time Sting kissing back, their lips dancing together slowly and filled with warmth and care.

Everything they’d endured...everything they’d hated...everything they’d loved. It at finally made sense, it all finally fit together after all of this time.

* * *

 

“Sting…?” Rogue whispers one morning into Sting’s hair, sunlight streaming through the window by their bed. They’d slept in that day, exhausted from intense guild inspections the day before that caused them both stress.

“Mmm…?” Sting hums sleepily, wanting to keep sleeping.

“I have a surprise for you today,” Rogue yawns, pulling Sting a little closer to him. “If you want it.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll love it,” Sting mumbles sleepily into Rogue’s chest. “But...later, please?”

“Of course…” Rogue kisses the top of Sting’s head, and then sleep takes him again.

When they arrive at the Guild Hall that afternoon, Sting knows this surprise is a big one. He wondered if the guild inspections had led to something cool…? He pushes open the door, finding that everyone is looking at him expectedly, stopping everything they’re doing.

Sting freezes in the center of the room as Rogue moves around to stand in front of him. He takes Sting’s gloved hands in his own, eyes shining with love and adoration. “I know I should’ve bought you a new binder, Sting. I did notice your pain but...the thing was...you...aren’t going to need it anymore.” With shaking hands, he passes an envelope to Sting.

Sting’s lip trembles. “Y-You didn’t…” He slowly opens the envelope, eyes already spilling tears when he sees the massive sum of jewel right there in the letter, plus a little handwritten note by Rogue that read, “It’s over now, Sunshine...it’s all over”.

Sting clutches the envelope close to his chest, letting out gross, messy sobs, trying to speak but his sentences make no sense. “Thank...finally...Rogue...free...love…”

“The entire guild has been saving up for you,” Rogue whispers. He can tell that everyone’s crying now, moved by Sting’s overwhelming emotion. “There’s no need to thank us, or repay us...we’re your family, Sting. We love you, and we want you to be happy… Take this as a gift, a gift from the deepest part of our hearts, reminding you that you’re never alone and we love you more than we could ever express.”

Sting simply holds his hand to his mouth, unable to speak as the tears pour down his cheeks. All he can do is stand there and cry along with the family who loved him so dearly and so tenderly, to the point where they would devote so much to his happiness.

* * *

 

“Take a deep breath...does it hurt?”

Sting breathes in shakily, eyes still closed tight. He clenches his teeth before finally speaking, “Only a little.” He nearly jumps out of his own skin at the deeper tone without effort, hand flying to his throat.

The woman laughs. “Easy there.”

But Sting isn’t listening. He’s sitting up despite the orders, eyes opening to a brightly lit room, a hospital gown on his body. But something is different...better...right.

He tears the damn thing off of himself and moves to the full size mirror. Unable to even shed tears, feeling like he was in a dream, he traces the outline of his body in the mirror. No curves, no fat thighs or exaggerated hips, no feminine lips or lashes, no female genitals to cause him agony, and most of all...his chest was flat. Instead, his muscles looked more natural on him, his cheekbones and jaw are more defined, his body is less curved, and anyone who looked at him naked or clothed would know...he was a man.

“You did it,” he breathes, nearly speechless. Although he had scars on his chest, he decided he would wear them with pride. “This is actually real…”

The woman nods. “Yes, sweetheart, this is completely real…” She pauses, looking at him inquisitively. “There’s a dark haired man outside, should I-?”

“Let him in,” Sting cuts her off. “He paid for most of this anyways...in fact...he got me here…” He chokes up slightly. “He saved my life…”

The door opens, and instantly Rogue is rushing inside, eyes filled with worry and anticipation. He freezes at the sight of his boyfriend, eyes widening in shock and joy. “You...Sting, you’re…” He can hardly speak, feeling both a blush and tears cover his cheeks. “You’re more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you in my entire life...y-you’re...you’re beaming...like a ray of sunlight…”

As Rogue cups Sting’s cheek in his hand, Sting breathes out, “It’s going to take a lot of getting used to, but...the magic is strong and solid...I will be a happy, healthy man for the rest of my life.” He chokes again, tears flowing at last. “It’s...I can’t believe...I never thought…”

“I know,” Rogue whispers, kissing the tears away. “But if it makes you feel any better, Sting...I always knew I’d find I way to get you here.”

“And you did…” Sting whispers, and then for once he’s pulling Rogue to his chest, letting Rogue cry in his arms, because finally after all of this time, all of Rogue’s efforts have paid off.

And as they stood there in each other’s arms, they were only boys. They were two boys, having lost too much innocence to truly be young, but missing so much of their youth. Two boys deeply, emotionally, passionately in love. Two boys...at peace at last.


End file.
